Oh, Honeypot
by Klavierliebe
Summary: Nobody sees Cammie Morgan, not when she doesn't want them to. Nobody except him. "Sweet dreams, Chameleon..." Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Honeypot.**

_Yes._

My hand closed around the bottle firmly, and I snatched it out of the grimy trash can with a surge of triumph. Mission accomplished -- if you forget about the part where Bex and Liz are compromised.

"Hi, there."

Two soft words shattered my victorious silence -- _oh, no. _Jolting back from the trash can like it was aflame, my eyes rocketed up to clash with a _boy's_. They were blue, like mine, but darker, much closer to a navy then my sapphire.

Crap! I didn't even want to imagine how strange I looked. Fishing an empty bottle out of a trashcan was completely normal behavior in Roseville, right?

"What are you doing?" he asked, and oh, my, his voice was melt-worthy. _Focus, Cam! _I chided myself -- honestly, this was no time for girlie thoughts when I was about to be compromised!

"I have a cat," I blurted out dumbly. "Her name's Suzie. The bottle is for her to play with."

He nodded solemnly, running a hand through his thick, wavy chestnut hair as he stepped closer. This friendly action just set off red-alerts in my head. He smiled, and I wished for nothing more than to be able to harness my chameleon ability and _disappear_.

"My name's Josh, nice to meet you."

Josh stuck out his hand innocently, the dimples on his cheeks growing even more defined as he grinned wider and I shook his hand warily. "Cammie."

Oh, gosh, can I leave now? Mr. Solomon will really _not _be happy with me being late! Honestly, this boy -- no matter how cute he is -- is just holding me up.

Josh's head shot up as he gazed at something behind me abruptly. Surprised, I was momentarily distracted. _Maybe I can slip away… _But his eyes drifted back to me and I waved half-heartedly. "I've got to go -- can't keep Suzie waiting," I said, gesturing to the bottle in my hand.

Josh nodded as if he knew exactly what I was talking about. Flashing me a dimpled grin, he chuckled, "No problem. I'll see you around, Cammie."

_Finally! _"Bye, Josh."

I turned around, the trophy bottle clutched in my hand, and walked along the cool sidewalk with the setting sun casting rays of orange light behind me. Phew. That civilian boy, Josh -- he'd _seen_ me. Nobody _sees_ me, not when I don't want them to...

Before I could quicken my pace and really start heading for the van, there was a harsh blow to the back of my head. _What the cra-- _my thoughts shorted out as I attempted flipping my attacker, only to have them counter their weight, block my hands, and wrap their strong arms around me in a choker hold.

I wriggled and wrestled, attempting to bite the man, but he had a firm arm pressed against my throat, and my lungs were feeling the heat. _Crackle. Smack! _No! No, no, no, not a Napotine patch, was this a _test_? _Oh, please, let it just be Mr. Solomon!_

My eyes had fluttered shut, and though I clawed at my attacker's fist, my struggles were getting weaker. Someone had to see…no, no, the street was deserted before Josh came. Josh. _Josh._

"_Sweet dreams, Chameleon…"_


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Honeypot.**

When I came to, my head was bursting.

Wincing and wrinkling my nose against the splitting pain, I opened my eyes with a huge effort and took in my surroundings -- peach walls, wooden lamps, a large window (shut firmly and locked from the outside) with a balcony. A hotel room.

Oh, you have to be _kidding _me.

I slipped off of the bed, which I had been curled on top of. I was still in the casual clothes I'd worn to the carnival -- which was how long ago? Judging by the sun and my internal clock, it was early morning. Standing, on the bright side, helped dissipate my pounding headache. Anyway, _what happened_?

The last thing I remember is Josh the "civilian" boy knocking me out.

"Hello?" I called out to the too-quiet room.

Almost instantly, a familiar face poked out of the bathroom. "Hello again, Cammie."

I wanted to wipe that cheeky smile right off his insanely annoying -- cute, but annoying -- face. _Josh. _I thought he was…normal. Kind of like I'm normal. I guess I was wrong.

"Josh. Care to explain what exactly we're doing in a hotel room?" I hissed. Hey, I was pretty darn angry. Did my mother know I was currently stomping my foot on the plush carpets of some hotel room in who-knows-where? I highly doubt it! Did Mr. Solomon? …I really hope so.

He surveyed me once, calmly raking his dark, navy gaze over me. Suddenly exposed, I rubbed my chilled arms impatiently. "Sorry, Chameleon, that's classified," he stated shortly, walking past me briskly.

I stared at him, completely disbelieving. No way.

While he flipped open a silver cell phone idly, I crept up behind him and lunged. His feet went spilling out from under him as I tripped him, making sure to knock his head on the way down as I pounced, pinning his broad shoulders with my knees.

"You _kidnapped_ me," I growled next to his ear. "That wasn't a very good idea. Now tell me where we are, and what is going on."

Josh remained relaxed, a slightly surprised smile playing across his lips. I would knock him out and bolt out of here, but I wanted answers. After a beat of silence, I heaved a sigh. He wasn't talking. Great. If only my comms hadn't shorted out when I got wet at the carnival, then I could contact Bex and Liz.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

The silver cell phone, still clutched in his hand, started vibrating and emitting a loud, incessant ringing noise. "Excuse me a moment," he murmured to me, then raised it to his ear, pressed a button and murmured, "Hello?"

I still had him pinned down, and I was close enough to hear every word.

"_Josh? Hey, wh--"_

"DeeDee, now's not a good time."

"_Oh, really? Because the last time I called, you said the _exact same thing. _If you're cheating on me, Josh, at least have th--"_

Click.

I wanted to burst out laughing. Girl troubles, much? It was a tribute to my training at Gallagher that I held it in. Josh's eyes were shadowed as he tossed the phone aside after hanging up with whom I assumed was his girlfriend.

"You going to let me up now?" he asked roughly, not meeting my gaze. My old misgivings and frustrations flooded back, smacking me in the face. There was nowhere else I would rather be right now then Gallagher -- however, I was currently locked in a mysterious hotel with _this _sort-of honeypot guy.

"No."

The sound of a lock being picked distracted us both. I whipped my head around, and Josh used this to his advantage by efficiently flipping me over so his hands pinned my wrists and he was hovering over me -- almost possessively. _Darn it._

It was in vain, however, because the window burst open a second later.

A boy about my age shot in, his unruly, deep brown hair wind-blown and piercing emerald eyes focused on us. Josh's hands tightened on my wrists painfully, but I bit my lip to keep from either crying out or punching him -- whichever I could accomplish first.

The boy hesitated. "Am I interrupting something here?" he asked in a low voice, a bit surprised.

I tried to imagine what he was seeing. Josh, pinning me against the carpet, our hair askew and my face red with anger. Oh, come on. "Not at all," I muttered as Josh's eyes flashed dangerously. I kicked his shin, _hard_, and he gritted his teeth….but he didn't let go.

In one swift movement, the emerald-eyed boy had knocked Josh off me and I had sprung up, dashing for the now-open window.

The sickly sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed behind me, punctuated by Josh's feral growl, but it didn't stop me as I gripped the edge of the balcony and launched myself over.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Honeypot.**

It was a gigantic relief that we were only on the second floor -- I managed to land not-so-gracefully in the bushes below the balcony. Stumbling out and wincing as I smacked thorns off my legs, I glanced back up at the balcony to make sure Josh and that other guy weren't following me.

_Oh, crap._

Josh was nowhere to be seen, but the second guy was dangling over the edge of the balcony, scrutinizing me with those big, green eyes.

Who was that guy? No -- more importantly, could I trust him?

Apparently, I would get my answer. As I backed up, brushing off my shoulders warily, he copied my move and plunged over the balcony. "Hey! Gallagher Girl, wait up," he called, and my feet -- positioned to run -- froze. _Gallagher Girl? _

"Solomon sent me," he explained as he closed the distance between us on the stretch of grass around the hotel. Luckily, no one had been around to see us jump from the balcony and survive -- it was still early enough for some of the town to be sleeping. "Zach."

"Cammie," I murmured, nodding. Where did all these boys keep coming from? Obviously, they were trained; Josh had knocked me out with a Napotine patch and Zach had pummeled him in a fistfight.

Then, his words sunk in. _Oh. _Solomon had sent him. I relaxed, trying not to let my face reveal just how relieved I was. That meant Gallagher knew what had happened. "So, where are we?" I asked, surveying the pretty but small, foggy town.

Zach shrugged, his broad shoulders rising slowly, almost sheepishly. "Somewhere in New Jersey. C'mon, we have to go --- don't want to still be here when he wakes up," he said, jabbing a thumb towards the balcony, and Josh, behind us.

Without waiting for me to reply, he started walking away, towards the front of the hotel. His walk was fluid and precise, not to mention he varied his footsteps like a pro. Who _was _this guy? Some friend of Mr. Solomon's, surely, but one who was in high school, behaving like a professional?

I caught up to him easily and, as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, I inquired, "Who are you, exactly?" _Not to be rude or anything, but I know next to nothing about you -- and you _did _save my life._

A taxi rolled up just as we arrived, and Zach glanced at me once with his intricate emerald eyes before opening the taxi door for me. I got inside, flustered with his chivalry -- _is that normal boy behavior? Gosh, I wish I had Liz here! _-- and frustrated with his silence.

As he took a seat next to me, pulling shut the door, he turned to the driver and said, "The nearest airport, please." The buff driver nodded gruffly, and Zach turned back to me. Shrugging loftily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he muttered under his breath, "Spy."

_Who are you, exactly? Spy. _Well, that wasn't infuriating. Wait, _spy_? High school age…spy…knows Mr. Solomon…who the heck is this guy? Where did he get his training? -- obviously not from Gallagher.

Twenty-three minutes, five right turns and three lefts later, we arrived.

The driver didn't ask for money -- in fact, Zach flashed him a smile before taking my arm and leading me away. The muscular taxi man gave a half-wave and drove off. _Oh. _Duh.

"You knew that guy," I observed, and Zach nodded. Was he an agent, too? Now that I think about it, of course Mr. Solomon has us surrounded by operatives. He wouldn't leave me with just Zach here, no matter how pro he acted. This realization helped me relax, and I breathed a light sigh of relief.

"Don't worry, Gallagher Girl. We're almost back to your school," the brunette beside me said, flashing me a cheeky smirk. My heart stuttered unexpectedly -- _stupid smirk _-- but I ignored it and said nothing.

The lines were surprisingly short, and we were perched in two blue chairs waiting for our plane in no time. Zach's eyes roamed every civilian -- or non-civilian -- that passed us by, and I was doing the same, both of us on high-alert.

That's probably why we both tensed when a familiar, blue-eyed boy slipped through the entrance of the airport.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Honeypot.**

"Josh," I whispered.

Oh, no. Not him again. Couldn't he just buzz off? Apparently Zach thought the same thing, because he sighed impatiently and muttered to himself, "You gotta be kidding me."

The brunette did indeed, however, slouch his way over to us. When he got within spitting distance, Zach rose to his feet and crossed his arms. Though shorter than Josh by a few inches, his shoulders were broader and the dangerous gleam in his eyes far surpassed Josh's blank, navy-blue gaze.

"Come back for round two, pretty boy?" Zach asked, projecting the perfect image of relaxed-guy-with-arms-crossed-menacingly. I wanted to laugh -- _pretty boy?_ -- but my stomach was currently involved with doing flips.

I stood up and moved to stand next to Zach, very aware of the numerous operative eyes probably locked on us right now from several clandestine locations. (I was willing to bet large portions of money that at least one of the window-washers on the terminal next to us was an agent ready to kill Josh with that sponge.)

The brunette took another step forward, palms out. "Really, there's a better way to do this--"

Josh was abruptly cut off as a scrawny boy materialized behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder. His hair was sandy blonde and fell over his dark eyes like a cloak, semi-masking the amused twinkles in their mocha depths. "Chill out, Josh. I've got this."

Fearlessly, he stepped past the furious brunette and came face-to-face with Zach and me. A muscle in Zach's jaw jumped, and he looked as high-strung as a lobster in the frying pan. Honestly, I think only a shred of patience was keeping green-eyed, rugged-boy over here from punching Mr. Scrawny into next week.

"Look, it's over. You're currently surrounded by eighteen of our agents, each highly trained and not afraid to kill you. Your operatives were compromised about fifteen minutes ago and have all been removed from the premises, So, I'd suggest you come with us and everything will go smoothly." the thin boy said sincerely.

My blood ran cold. _Excuse me? No way. _He's pulling our leg.

"Prove it," Zach replied easily, not phased in the slightest. I admired his mask -- if he was at all nervous or scared, you would never know. I, on the other hand, have not covered lying in CoveOps.

The smaller boy's eyes narrowed and he stiffened, obviously infuriated. Josh stepped forward, muttering a warning to his friend. "_Dillon…_"

Dillon. So the pipsqueak about to rip Zach's head off had a name.

Speaking of Dillon, his lips twisted up into an ugly, sadistic smile and he crowed triumphantly, "Try your comms, _Z'Man_." The emerald-eyed boy beside me clenched one hand into a fist, earning himself a deliberately slow glare from one of the nearby security guards, whom I highly doubted knew what exactly was going on.

I didn't need Zach's glance to tell me that his comms were drowning in static, or Dillon's smirk to tell me he was thinking _I told you so_. The real question was _how the heck would we get out of this?_ Zach stared at me for a moment, his calculating gaze intense and brooding. (It would make me melt a little, if we _weren't_ in a horrible situation.)

This also made me realize that he had been chosen -- perhaps hand-picked by Mr. Solomon -- to protect _me_. It was his goal to keep me alive.

"Let's go," Josh said gruffly, reaching out to snatch my hand and pull me towards another terminal. As I ripped my hand back in disgust, Zach was in front of him with a murderous expression. "Keep your hands off her, Jimmy."

_Jimmy. _I would never understand guys. However, that was very chivalrous of Zach, although I could've handled dear Josh myself. Dillon strolled by, taking the lead leisurely as he strutted off toward a boarding plane headed for California.

We followed him, Josh hovering over us and Zach glowering at him continuously.

_Mr. Solomon! _I screamed in my head, as if he could hear me. _Help us!_

No one gave us a second glance.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

After boarding the plane with the four tickets Dillon pulled from his pocket, Josh shoved Zach into a seat next to Dillon. In retaliation, the green-eyed operative stuck out his foot and successfully tripped Josh. "Not happening, Jimmy. I sit next to her," he said forcefully, jerking his chin at me.

Dillon laughed aloud, mocking and incredulous, as Zach rose to his feet. "You aren't callin' the shots here, buddy," he grinned, brushing the sandy blonde hair from his dark eyes. "We are."

I would be fine sitting next to Josh -- I could take care of myself. One plane ride sitting beside the enemy wouldn't kill me. _That is, unless he _did _kill me_. "It's fine. I'll sit next to _pretty boy_."

A smirk crept up Zach's face as he resumed sitting next to Dillon, eyes glued to my face. Josh's shadowed blue eyes darkened even further and he dragged me to our seats roughly by my arm. Uncomfortable already, I swatted his hand away and took the window seat without asking. I didn't think he'd mind.

I settled down in my seat. Josh plunked down beside me, flashing me one of his dimpled grins. I resisted the urge to stand up and roundhouse kick him into next week. "Who do you work for, Josh?" I asked icily, because a large portion of me was dying to know who exactly wanted to kidnap me so bad.

He shrugged idly, avoiding my gaze. "Do you honestly think I'm going to just tell you?" he asked gruffly, moodily squaring his shoulders and turning to face the aisle. _No. _Of course not. But it was worth a try, right?

I crossed my arms and stared blankly out the window, trying not to shiver. It wasn't cold, but I was currently in a very compromising position here. Josh had _seen_ me. I couldn't get over this simple fact: I'd gone most of my clandestine life without being seen, with the ability to disappear whenever I fancied. It was a disturbing thought that there was someone -- perhaps more than one person -- who could pick me out of a crowd.

The pilot broke me out of my thoughts, his crackly voice projecting over the loudspeakers. "Attention passengers, we will be arriving in LAX at approximately 3:45 P.M…." Blah, blah, yadda, yadda. I tuned him out after that, choosing instead to rub my forehead with my hands like the stressed-out sophomore I am.

"Are you okay?" Josh asked immediately, noticing as I screwed my eyes shut in frustration. What the -- did I hear him right? Am I _okay_? _Why the crap would this jerk care if I was okay?! _Blinking, I mustered a smile and murmured, "Fine."

He leaned over me, navy eyes smoldering as his arm snaked around my shoulder, pulling me tightly against him. "I don't think you are," he murmured. The plane started rolling forward, gathering speed, as I jerked backward.

"Don't _touch_ me." I gritted my teeth and slammed his arm off of my shoulders -- okay, a little harshly, but he deserved it. Honestly, who kidnaps a teenage spy and then suddenly acts like he actually cares if she's okay?

_Maybe he's just a nice person… _A little voice cooed in my head, but I shoved it out forcefully as the brunette beside me kept talking. "I'm sorry, Cam. I _do_ care, you know. It's just, Dillon…" he trailed off, at a loss for words. He didn't pick up his thought, and I didn't let him.

"Leave me alone." I said shortly. This guy kidnapped me. Of course I wasn't going to be polite, no matter how much he _cared _for me.

I wish…I wish I could talk to my mom, or Mr. Solomon; and Bex and Liz. Heck, I'd give a lot just to talk to Zach -- at least he was on _my _side. Unlike _this_ mood-swinging honeypot! Gosh, I was so stupid not to have seen it…alarm bells should have been ringing as soon as I laid eyes on him.

I buried my head in my hands as a thousand different emotions crashed over me, the darkness of my warm arms soothing me into a slumber on the buzzing, mid-air plane…

--

"Hey. Hey, wake up."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste -- did I _really_ have to get up? 

"Mm, five more min'zz, Liz."

My eyes shot open as I realized the answering voice was both male and ticked-off -- neither of which were traits of my best friend. _Oh crap. _

"Get your 'sleeping beauty' butt out of that chair, princess. We've landed."

Dillon was scowling, his dark eyes shadowed. I scowled back, opening my mouth to retort, when Zach jumped in to my defense as I sprang to my feet, still a little groggy. "Jealous, Dillon? You didn't sleep much on that trip, I noticed. Ready for a nap?" he asked, cracking his knuckles ominously. I decided I definitely did not want to know what went down in _their_ seats…

Josh rolled his eyes, grabbed Dillon's half-raised, aggressive arm and dragged him towards the entrance. "Let's go, macho men. No fighting in public areas."

When Josh had released his arm and turned around, Dillon slipped back and flashed a well-concealed gun at us -- I resisted clenching my fists together; airport security was hard to get past. Whoever these punks worked for…they knew what they were doing. 

"Don't mess with me, Goode." 

He stalked away, confident that we would follow. Not likely.

As soon as Dillon's back was turned, Zach had latched onto my elbow and was leading me through the thin airplane aisle, which was difficult considering most of the passengers were currently traveling the opposite direction. "Excuse me," I murmured over and over again, trying to be polite and, hopefully, at least semi-inconspicuous.

My feeble attempts were thrown out the window as a thundering gunshot rang out.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Oh, Honeypot.**

A mere heartbeat later, Zach was positioned in front of me, my entire gaze shielded by his protective form as I was squished backwards into an unoccupied airline seat. Sweet…but unnecessary. _I don't think so, boy. _I may have been terrified, but definitely not incompetent.

I pushed his shoulder, peeking out apprehensively as the startled shrieks of fellow passengers pierce the suddenly dry air. Dillon. Dillon. _He_ was the one with the gun…where was he?

_There_. Beyond Zach's tensed muscles, past a clump of panicked passengers, Dillon had whipped around, his stormy eyes narrowed and neck stiff. His pale hands….were empty. There was no shiny, obsidian gun clutched between his fingers.

I suddenly had a very, very bad feeling.

The thick, stampeding crowd turned tail and fled right past the brunette shielding me and myself. Through a break in the mob, I finally caught sight of the clearing where, quite a few rows away from us, a thin, blonde girl was gripping the guilty gun, aimed toward the roof, where a small bullet hole was visible.

As innocent bystanders thundered past, shoving at us until we were forced to scoot into the nearest row of seats for fear of being crushed, Dillon began plowing through the citizens, headed straight for us and the mysterious, sapphire-eyed girl who had pulled the trigger.

"Cammie, we need to get out of here."

Zach had turned to me, concerned, his dark emerald eyes leaving no room for argument. Heck, I agreed. Whoever that crazy teenager was, she had created a window of opportunity to sneak away from our kidnappers, and hopefully not be caught by their many operatives.

I nodded, and we maneuvered through the crowd swiftly, heading away from both Dillon, the mysterious girl, and Josh -- who was out of sight, but would most likely be on our trails in a heartbeat if we let him. A burly security guard leaped over a row of seats, coming to crash next to the girl. I glanced back as she efficiently, smoothly knocked the pressure point in his neck and he fell to the ground.

_What the…_That was something they taught us at Gallagher -- not featured in normal curriculum. No pedestrian I had ever met would be able to accomplish that. Who was this mysterious, blonde-haired teenager?

Zach darted towards the other exit, where a shell-shocked flight attendant was pressed against the wall, brown orbs stretched open wide.

The brunette boy slipped past her, and I looked back once more -- not to see if Dillon had spotted us or Josh had miraculously reappeared, but to check on the frail, blue-eyed girl who'd unintentionally saved our butts and single-handedly knocked out a security guard.

She was…

Conversing. With Dillon. Her shoulders hunched, head down, as if expecting a rebuke. Three more police officers were racing towards them from the other end of the plane, jaws set, but neither one cared. The blonde-haired boy was gazing at her with emotionless eyes, a blank expression on his face as he watched her lips move…shame I was too far away to hear what she said.

I was three seconds away from hurtling down the ramp after Zach when the first police officer shouted "Get down on your knees!" and the blonde girl cocked her gun. Wasting no time as she held the life-threatening weapon trained at his heart, the policeman fired his own gun. She crumpled the ground at once, and my feet turned to lead.

"_DeeDee_!" Dillon's anguished howl echoed in the still plane.

Zach's wiry arm was suddenly winding around my shoulder as he bent his head and murmured roughly into my hair, "I thought I said we needed to get out of here."

Numb, I let him lead me oh-so-casually out of the ramp.

--

Ha.  
Yeah, I bet you weren't expecting that.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Oh, Honeypot.**

We got about three feet before I regained my senses and said, "I knew her."

The brunette beside me didn't falter, but his shining eyes narrowed in surprise. He contemplated for a moment while I mentally cursed myself -- how could it have taken me so long to place who she was? It only came back to me when Dillon had screeched her name…while she died.

"Who was she?" Zach asked carefully as we weaved through the buzzing airport, sporadically shifting our footsteps and changing direction -- normal clandestine behavior. Getting caught by Josh, Dillon, or one of their agents wasn't the best idea.

"She called Josh, back in the hotel. I think she was his girlfriend," I explained.

Zach stayed silent. I shot him a glance -- his eyes were roaming the crowds of people cynically, shoulder brushing mine almost possessively every few seconds. "That's unfortunate," he finally murmured, after a long beat of thick silence.

"Did you…_know_ her?" I asked, a little hesitantly. Zach was acting a little funky; though I didn't know him very well, I _had _taken Madame Dabney's Body Language for Beginners course. His set jaw, firm emerald eyes and stern shoulders spoke for themselves, really.

He glanced at me, almost indecisively roaming my face, as we strolled casually toward the taxi pickup area. "She was my half-sister."

_Whoa._

Half-sister? _Excuse me_?

"Oh," I mumbled, mind buzzing. How in the world…? "I'm sorry."

DeeDee, with her slight frame and short, yellow hair….with her periwinkle eyes and thin nose, was related to Zach? Zach, with his broad shoulders and tousled chestnut curls…with his dark green eyes and muscled forearms? Talk about _strange_.

Zach shrugged idly and said no more, instead pushing the wide glass doors open to stride out into the Los Angeles sun, me right on his heels.

"We need to contact Solomon," he muttered as we ducked swiftly into a laughing group of middle-aged men with black shirts. I nodded, resisting the urge to glance behind me for the inevitable return of Dillon or Josh.

Then, I saw it. The perfect way to get in touch with Mr. Solomon and -- hopefully -- look normal enough not to be suspected as undercover operatives.

"Hey, Zach…" I mumbled, pausing. "How about that?"

--

Rebecca Baxter was one pissed off teenage girl.

"She could be _dead_, dead as a _doornail_, and what are we doing? Lounging around in our dorm like bloody _couch potatoes_."

"Bex--" Liz began, the blonde rising from her perch on the edge of her bed.

The raging Brit cut her off, stampeding over her words like a temperamental elephant. "The last thing Solomon tells us is he's lost connection with every single _freakin'_ agent on the premises. And he expects us to just _sit in our room_ and _wait _for something to happen, for the plane to just land in California?"

After a few choice swear words, Bex kicked the wall forcefully. Macey McHenry peered at her over the top of her magazine cynically with crystalline blue eyes. She heaved a sigh and slapped her magazine down onto the bed, idly fixing her gaze on her fellow Gallagher Girls.

"If it bothers you so much, why don't you just go after her yourself?"

Liz's eyes bugged out as she tugged a red-blonde lock of hair nervously. Bex, on the hand, sprang up from her spot on the floor, where she had flopped in a huff after taking her anger out on the wall. Her mocha eyes locked onto Macey's with a feral gleam. "I like your thinking, McHenry. We might just get along after all."

Crossing her arms, Liz asked in a strained voice, "No way, Bex. That's a suicide mission!"

Instead of the wily Brit's response, Macey McHenry snapped at her, "That's understandable for you to say. We all know you'd rather rot in a lab then risk your neck to save your best friend."

_I take that back, _Bex thought as she prepared to bite Macey's head off -- instead, Liz's sea-blue eyes narrowed coldly as she scowled and turned to Bex determinedly. "When do we leave?"

--

I gestured to it -- the plain, rundown, blue payphone.

Zach stared at it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in his head. I could almost see the gears in his brain, whirring away.

"If we're fast enough, and only speak in code…what's there to lose?" I coaxed. Heck, I thought it was a brilliant idea. Two teenagers using a payphone -- that was good cover. The brunette beside me couldn't deny that.

"Fine," he decided, and we walked briskly toward it.

I dug around in my pockets for quarters, and that's when I realized I hadn't changed in...well, a while. Since the carnival…which seemed like years ago. This turned out to be lucky, because I still had the change from my corndog in my pocket. I pulled out fifty cents and handed it to Zach, who shoved the coins into the machine.

He dialed swiftly, so swiftly that I didn't catch the number.

"Wise Guy? Touché here -- Chameleon is secure. Piggy-backing to you now."

Immediately, Zach hung up and returned the phone to its holder. I breathed a sigh of relief…Mr. Solomon knew we were alright…but there was one part of Zach's message I didn't understand. "Piggy-backing?" I questioned as we strolled leisurely back towards the cab area.

He glanced at me with a little smile. "I'm taking you back home, Gallagher Girl."

--

Liz was practically hysterical.

"I'm doing it for Cam, I'm doing it for Cammie…" she grumbled to herself as she slipped down said friend's least-favorite secret passageway -- which was most likely the case because it contained a chasm sixty feet deep that led directly down to the sewers. Dang Bex, insisting they had to use it.

Speaking of the only non-American Gallagher Girl in history, she was a few paces ahead, sweeping the floor of the grimy corridor with a flashlight. Her teeth chattered, and she was 100% sure that she'd be grounded for life _and _get detention for this stunt. If it meant helping her friend, however…

Behind Liz was the group's surprising third companion. Macey McHenry had put her foot down and _insisted_ she accompany the two sophomores on their journey. Bex had refused, but Liz -- still stung from the Senator's daughter's last comment -- had agreed….

…on one condition: Macey McHenry would do anything and everything she was asked of.

Bex froze.

"We're here," she murmured, taking a deep breath. Liz stumbled up behind her, mouth falling open in shock when she glimpsed the dark hole waiting to swallow her up. Macey smirked behind them, teeth gleaming white in Bex's flashlight.

"Let's do this," she grinned.

--

Rachel Morgan hurried down the corridor.

She knocked politely on her daughter's dorm room door. When their was no answer, she cracked it open with a grin. "Rebecca? Elizabeth? I have news on Cammie."

She stepped inside and flicked on the light, perplexed by their silence.

The room was bare. Empty beds, stripped closets, cleared-out drawers. Liz's trusty laptop was missing from the side table, and Bex's favorite sneakers had disappeared from under the bed. Even Macey's earring stand had been picked clean, like bones from a carcass left for the vultures.

Ms. Morgan slid onto her daughter's bed, gripping the edge and blinking hard. _They left._

"Oh, girls..."


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own Gallagher Girls.

**.Oh, Honeypot.**

"C'mon Liz, you can do this…"

Bex's positive voice coaxed Liz back from her hysterics.

The two of them were bent over a sink in the middle of a public restroom at the Virginia airport. Macey was lounging near the entrance, keeping watch. Liz's thin, pale hands were gripping the edges of the sink like it was a lifeline, and she gazed sideways at her mocha-skinned companion with murky brown contacts.

"We could drive to California in nine point three days, with the right car," she choked out, pleading desperately with her roommate. Bex merely rolled her eyes, flipping her black bob wig and attempted to pry Liz's shaky fingers from the innocent sink. People were beginning to stare -- not a good thing.

"Liz, it's just _one_ plane ride. It'll be snappy, I promise."

Elizabeth Sutton was terrified of heights. The only reason Bex had been able to persuade her down the chasm, back at Gallagher was…well, she hadn't. Macey had waited until Liz was fully strapped/wired/roped in, then pushed her off the edge when the blonde hesitated.

Speaking of McHenry, here she was.

She strode up to her roommates -- disguise firmly in place; wouldn't want to be recognized, now would we? -- and leaned back against the counter of the bathroom, idly twirling a frizzy, auburn curl from her wig. "Are you going to keep me waiting until I die of old age?" she droned with the tiniest hint of a smile.

Bex rolled her eyes, detached Liz from the sink with a smirk and a huff, and followed the Senator's disguised daughter out into the bustling airport.

--

_He glanced at me with a little smile. "I'm taking you back home, Gallagher Girl."_

I couldn't help the sweet smile that stretched across my face -- that was one phrase I'd been dying to hear. Finally, back home at the Gallagher Academy. I couldn't wait to see Bex and Liz again…

Spontaneously, I threw my arms around Zach and hugged him tight. He chuckled lightly and hugged me back. "Thank you," I murmured, stepping away quickly. In hindsight, that was…embarrassing. But, he had gotten me out of a bad situation. I was grateful to him for that.

He held me at arm's length for a moment, surveying my face.

Then he let his hand drop from my elbow as a cab pulled up to the curb beside us. I almost missed the feeling of his arms encircling me -- then I banished such thoughts from my mind and climbed into the cab behind him. He immediately began to speak to the buff driver.

"Long Beach International Airport, please," Zach muttered to the taxi driver. The burly man chuckled and rolled his brown eyes.

"That's quite a drive, sonny. You got enough cash for that?" he grumbled.

Then, to my absolute astonishment, the emerald-eyed boy pulled a wad of green cash from his pocket. I ogled it, amazed. Did he have that the entire time? He must have. _Wow, _I thought, catching sight of a few hundred dollar bills.

He showed it to the cab driver, and the man immediately stepped on the gas, mumbling, "Yes sir, Long Beach International it is, comin' right up, sir!" Apparently he was as fascinated with that much cash as I was.

Zach turned to me and smirked, noticing the way my eyes were bugging out. He tapped my nose with a fingertip and murmured, "Impressed, Cammie?"

I managed to keep myself from blushing, and shrugged neutrally. "Yes," I admitted, my eyes straying to the enchanting golden rays of the California sky. "I've never been on a mission before, remember?"

He looks at me for an endless minute, brilliant green eyes locked onto my face. His eyebrows are scrunched together and the teasing mood has evaporated. "That's a good thing," he mutters. "You shouldn't be here now, either."

_What? _Was that a jab at my espionage skills, or was he just an overprotective guardian? I considered asking what that was all about…but thought better of it. He probably wouldn't answer me, anyway -- stupid spy.

I'll never know if we could've continued that conversation, because at that moment the taxi driver began howling like a madman and the car screeched into a wide turn, throwing me into the hard door.

Zach was instantly tense, and had shoved the money back into his pocket before I could blink. The glint of a knife drew my eyes to his other pocket as I scrambled back to my seat and the car came to a sudden, lurching halt.

I peered out the window -- we'd slammed into the curb, and the driver's panicked words were startlingly clear. "I hit 'im! I hit 'im, oh, God, I'm sorry, I didn't s-see --" he broke off into gasping breaths as Zach's fingers locked around my wrist and we practically flew out the door.

The broad-shouldered boy was steadily leading me away, past the crowd of screaming civilians who were gathering at the scene. I craned my neck back, still in shock, trying to see the victim. "Wait--wait, Zach, is he…?"

Zach paused, and I caught sight of the boy crumpled in the road. He wasn't screaming -- in fact, he wasn't making a sound. His hair was fluffy, black and resembled a mop. A red stain was spreading up his leg like a wildfire, while other streams laced through his hair and dripped into his pale face. Huge blue eyes rolled towards me, glazed over in denial. _No._

There was a nauseating tug in my stomach, but I fought it off. The boy, trembling on the concrete, began to hyperventilate. _Zach_. Emotionless eyes. He beckoned for us to _leave_, we had to go before Josh and Dillon caught up -- they must be following us. I looked back at the boy, and tugged my wrist from Zach's protective grip.

"I know him," I said.

He didn't meet my eyes. "How?"

"He lives in Nebraska," I muttered. "Right across the street from my grandparents."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, continuing, "His name's Jonas Mackie."

--

_First class._

Bex was loving Macey McHenry and her endless amounts of cash -- whoever said coming from a rich family was a bad thing? The seats were plush and comfortable, the windows were large and the food looked _great_. If only Liz could appreciate it -- however, she was curled into the middle seat desperately trying to sleep.

"When are we leaving?" Macey asked impatiently, restraining herself from scratching her cranium like crazy -- she itched like no tomorrow, thanks to her curly wig. Having the plane delayed almost five whole minutes now was not helping her tremendous mood.

Bex resisted rolling her eyes and answered, "I'm not sure. Can't be too long now, they're closing the gates."

So they were. As the British Gallagher Girl rolled away from the window lazily, she caught sight of a lone boy arriving at the front of the plane, a few rows in front of them. He was panting and gasping for breath, brow sweaty. His light brown hair was perfectly combed and unabashed from his run down the terminal. As he surveyed the plane and began dragging his suitcase down the aisle, his mocha eyes passed over Bex like a radar.

She felt a jolt of suspicion pang deep in her gut, followed by her narrowed eyes. He was someone -- she didn't know exactly who yet, but she trusted her instincts and heredity enough to assume he was _not_ just a civilian.

Covertly, she peered at his suitcase long enough to make out the name scrawled onto the side of his luggage: _Grant Newman_.

--

A/N:  
Ohh, yeah. You _know_ you were missing Grant and Jonas.


End file.
